She grunted and stared at the fire. “Cyril should be flogged.”
“Perhaps you can arrange a party for that.”
“Perhaps I shall.” The gleam in her eye was a trifle alarming, so he decided to change the topic.
“Where are the girls?”
His mother took another sip. “Upstairs in bed, of course. It’s the middle of the night.”
Not hardly. It was just past eleven.
“They might be in Meg’s room, though.”
“Meg’s room? Why would my daughters be sleeping in Meg’s room?”
“Oh dear.” She sent him a rueful glance. “They might have frightened off another nanny.”
Another nanny? Jonathan raked back his hair. “Might have?”
“There was some talk of setting her boot on fire.”
“That would do it.” He had no idea why he had to fight back a smile. “How many nannies is that?”
“I’ve lost count. But, Jonathan, it’s not their fault.”
“Isn’t it?”
“Those girls need a mother. Nannies just won’t do for such high-spirited creatures.”
“They have a father.”
“Hmm.” She finished off her glass and re-poured. “A father who prefers to flitter about in London.”
“I hardly flitter. For the past two months, I’ve been working straight through.” The parliamentary session had been endless.
“My point exactly. They need a mother.”
Blast. She had won that point after all.
“Even though this party is for Meg, it wouldn’t hurt for you to assess some of the young ladies who are coming. Say you will.”
Blast.
But her expression was so compelling, he had to say yes. If only to get her to stop talking about it.
After that major concession, he decided it would be wise to escape before she managed to pry any more from him. It was a skill at which she excelled. “I think I shall pop in on the girls, and then retire.”
“You do that.” She nodded. “I will see you in the morning. Have a list for me then.”
His brow wrinkled. “A list?”
His mother sighed heavily. “Were you even listening to me?”
“Of course I was listening. You didn’t mention a list.”
“I hate when people don’t listen.”
“Which list, Mother?”
“The list of suitors for Meg, of course.”
Ah. That. “I will work on it.”
“You do that. Have it for me first thing.”
He rose, bent to kiss her cheek once more, and then headed up the stairs. It took a moment at the landing to remember the way to the nursery. That was the trouble with having a house one rarely used. After a false start or two, he found the correct hallway and strolled through the dim corridor toward his daughters’ room.
The door was open, so he heard the soft strains of a Brahm’s lullaby as he approached and a grin picked up the corners of his lips. He’d always loved Meg’s singing. Because he didn’t want her to stop, he lingered at the door, taking in the serene scene. She sat in a rocking chair by the fire with her hair down, holding a bundle of his progeny. It was impossible to tell which one in the shadows, but it hardly mattered. After the day he’d had, such peace was a balm. His heart swelled.
He must have made a noise, because Meg stopped singing and turned to him. Even in the darkness, he saw her eyes widen and glow. Her lips quirked and she whispered, “You’re here.”
He wasn’t sure why, but he had the strangest feeling of déjà vu. As though he’d stood here before, a thousand times, watching her hold his sleeping child.
He had no idea why it caused his heart to swell.
CHAPTER 2
MEG HELD Vicca closer as she stared at Jonathan. It was wrong for her heart to launch into such a mad patter at the sight of him. She’d known he was coming—eventually. This was hardly a surprise. But she couldn’t help her reaction to him. She never could.
The best she could do was feign nonchalance.
For her, it had become an art form.
When he stepped into the room and tiptoed to the hearth, she had to look away. Had there ever been a man so perfectly formed? His shoulders were broad, his hips slender, his face pure perfection.
He knelt on the carpet beside her and twined a finger around one of Vicca’s curls, but all Meg could think of was the heat that surrounded him, the scent of his rising cologne. Her mouth watered and she swallowed. It took a moment for her to regain her senses. It took an effort to send him a casual glance.
“How was your journey?” she asked softly.
He grinned, and the sight nearly blinded her. And good heavens. The stubble of his day beard made her weak at the knees. She tightened her hold on Vicca, to keep herself from petting him, so strong was his allure. It captured her on a visceral level.
“Cold.”
“Oh yes.” She nodded. “It’s quite cold this year.”
“Isn’t it?”
Weather having been dispensed with, the conversation eased into silence. For wont of a sane subject, Meg stared at the fire, but eventually, she had to speak. “Well, I should get Vicca back in bed.”
Jonathan stood. “Let me.” And then, to her horror, he bent down and took his daughter from her arms. Everywhere he touched her, it burned.
Her face burned as well. Thank heaven for the shadows.
She watched as he carried Vicca to her bed and tucked her under the covers. Then he turned, took her arm, and guided her from the room.
Though the hall was lit only by the occasional lamp, it seemed as bright as daylight as they emerged. So when Jonathan pulled the door closed and turned to smile at her, she saw everything. The crinkle of his eyes, the raft of dimples on his cheek, the slight twitch of his nostrils.
Fortunately, he seemed oblivious to her rapt attention, which gave her time to look elsewhere before he noticed her drooling. Her wrinkled skirt was a perfect foil for her fascination.
His voice, when he spoke, rumbled through her being. “I understand they ran another one off.”
Thank God for the humor in his tone. It shattered any silly thoughts she might have been harboring in this oddly intimate scenario. She leaned against the wall and looked up at him and affected a starchy tone. “They set her on fire.”
He chuckled. “So I heard. Whatever will we do with them?”
We? She loved that he’d said we. But still, “They are your problem, Your Grace.” She never called him that when they were private, though he’d been a duke since he was a boy, so he knew she was jesting.
Indeed, he laughed. “I know you better than that, Meg. You adore those girls as much as I do.”
“True.” She forced a gamine grin. “But they are not my problem, and we both know it. Perhaps, while you are here, you can be their governess.” She batted her lashes, because it was a cheeky thing to do to a duke, and the situation called for cheeky.
He paled. “Surely Mother has sent for another?”
“I believe she directed Mawbry to do so. But there is always the possibility that…”
“What?” He always hated when she trailed off.
“Well, the help does talk. There is always the possibility that no one will take the post.” Again with the lashes. It was a ridiculous prospect, because who wouldn’t want to work for a duke? But it was amusing to watch the dismay cross his features. She patted him on his fine coat. “Don’t worry, Your Grace. You’ll make a wonderful governess. And I daresay they will not set you on fire.” And with that, she turned to head down the hall to her room.
“Meg!” The tenor of his voice stopped her. That and the fact he’d said her name. She loved when he called her Meg.
She turned and shot him a curious glance. “Yes?”